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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29492280">This Is The One Where Crowley and Sam Start Talking After Weeks of Furtive, Hot Sex</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldPingHai/pseuds/OldPingHai'>OldPingHai</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>This Is The One Where... [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cram (CRowley/sAM), Crowley/Sam Winchester - Freeform, M/M, Mooseley, Moosely - Freeform, samley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:21:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,412</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29492280</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldPingHai/pseuds/OldPingHai</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After weeks of sex on the sly, Crowley and Sam decide they want more—more time together, more than just sex.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Crowley (Supernatural)/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>This Is The One Where... [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120151</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>This Is The One Where Crowley and Sam Start Talking After Weeks of Furtive, Hot Sex</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>AU—unspecified time frame, just at some point after the boys have moved into the Men of Letters' bunker. Not canon compliant.</p><p>Mooseley, or as I like to call it, "Cram,"—CRowley/sAM. This story, indeed the entire planned series, is meant to be fun. I hope you enjoy it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sitting in the back seat of the very large, very comfortable vintage Oldsmobile 98 taken from the Men of Letters’ garage, Sam Winchester consulted his watch for the third time in thirty seconds. Where was Crowley? Every second the demon was late for their prearranged meeting was one less second they had to spend together. Having claimed he’d done a large grocery shopping trip earlier in the week (most of which time was spent with Crowley in the back seat of another car very much like this one), the only excuse Sam could come up with today was that he had to pick up a few things he’d missed before. But now the time allotted for their tryst was ticking away, leaving the car parked in a very out-of-the-way spot while Sam waited in a fever of impatience and anticipation. Crowley had better get here soon...</p><p>“Hello, Bullwinkle,” said the King of the Demons, blinking into the back seat next to Sam. “Sorry I’m a bit late. In order to bring court to a close this morning I had to disintegrate a few whining petitioners to discourage anyone else from dragging out the proceedings and keeping me away from you even longer.” He leaned up a little to kiss Sam’s cheek, then he eyed Sam’s attire and shook his head in mock disgust, his gaze both amused and filled with desire. “Can I get you without the flannel?”</p><p>“Sure can,” Sam said with a grin, and he whipped off his flannel shirt, all the rest of his clothes following it in a pile on the floor. Crowley snapped his fingers and his own clothes vanished, and they fell on each other hungrily.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>******</p>
</div>Another day, another back seat rendezvous.<p>“Crowley, stop, you’re killing me!” Sam protested, but there was a smile on his lips. “We’ve pretty much reached my limit, one more time might end me!”</p><p>The King of Hell, who didn’t need to breathe, eat, use the toilet or take any time to recuperate after sex, pouted a bit. He had been kissing his way down Sam’s six-pack abs, planning to go even lower, when Sam demurred.</p><p> “Very well, Moose,” he said, “but make a note of where we were, and next time we’ll pick this up right where we left off.” His eyes shone with sardonic humor as he looked up from Sam’s flat stomach.</p><p>Sam forced himself to smile at Crowley’s wry joke. <i>Next time...of course...now that the sex is over, we might as well go, </i>he thought a bit despondently. And then reminded himself that he had signed up for this situation voluntarily. He had started out enjoying the sneaky assignations, the furtive sex and the secret kisses; Crowley had not had to twist his arm.</p><p>“I really should be getting back soon anyway,” Sam said, trying to put the best spin on it. “I told Dean I was running out to get some portobello mushrooms and a couple of six packs of beer, and I think we’ve pushed the limits of that excuse already.” Reluctantly, he heaved himself out of Crowley’s arms and reached for his clothes, which were lying in a twisted heap at his feet.</p><p>Crowley snapped his fingers and his signature black suit reappeared on his body, sharp and crisp as ever. As Sam started pulling his now-rumpled clothes back on, the King of Hell cudgeled his brains to come up with some way to prolong their limited time together. He wanted more, so much more, than the short trysts they had managed to carve out with each other, but Moose had always seemed content with the status quo. Still, something about Winchester’s reaction seemed different this time, so he took a chance.</p><p>“I could go for a cup of coffee about now,” he said. “And I’m sure you can use some too, you really need to replenish your fluids.” He waggled his eyebrows a tiny bit as if to remind Sam of the reason. “Why don’t we try out that quaint little coffee shop in Lebanon? It shouldn’t take that long.”</p><p>Sam’s heart began pounding so hard, he was certain the demon could hear it. This was a wish he’d had for quite a while now, that Crowley would show more interest in him than in his cock. The clandestine sex and sneaking around behind Dean’s back had given the situation spice—but after many weeks of it, Sam started wanting more. The demon, however, had always seemed content with the “wham-bam-thank-you-Sam” approach. Sam felt dejected because he was pretty sure he was falling in love with Crowley—his sly, completely off-kilter sense of humor, his wickedly sharp intelligence, his interest in everything that went on around him (at least, everything on earth; Sam knew that most things in Hell bored Crowley rigid), but most of all, there was that smile of undisguised pleasure when he looked at Sam. Crowley was a completely different demon when he was alone with Sam...for one thing, his constant sexual double-entendres were now literally true.</p><p>Sam smiled brightly, causing warmth to bloom in Crowley’s chest. “Good idea, Crowley, and I can get a piece of pie there to bring to Dean as an excuse for why I’ve been gone for so long. I’ll take something out of the library, too, and say I got engrossed reading a book in the coffee shop.”</p><p>Their time together was usually limited and both enjoyed the down-and-dirty sex; in fact, there was one particular escapade behind the bowling alley in Lebanon that still gave Sam a hard-on whenever he thought about it. But even so, he much preferred the nights when Dean said “I’mma get lucky tonight, see you tomorrow” and zipped out the door, throwing Sam a wink. If they were in the Men of Letters’ headquarters at the time, Sam powered down the bunker’s warding, pulled out his cell phone to call Crowley, and the demon was usually there before Sam had even disconnected the call. Dean had unerring instincts for whether he’d be out all night or not, and thus far he had never come back and interrupted them, giving Crowley and Sam entire nights of leisurely sex and no need for Sam to make excuses.</p><p>Or if Sam and Dean were on the road, as soon as Dean went out tomcatting, Crowley would transport himself and Sam out of whatever ratty motel room the brothers were sharing to a nicer place. He’d once whisked Sam off to the penthouse suite at the Humboldt Hotel in Cleveland (of all the strange places), but Sam had felt uncomfortable in such ostentatious surroundings, and the next time Crowley suggested it, Sam said with a laugh, “All we’re going to do is try our best to break the bed, so we might as well do that in a no-tell motel right around here.” The King of Hell could have and would have given Sam anything, but had been reluctantly coming to the conclusion that Sam wanted nothing from him but sex. However, hearing Winchester’s heartbeat accelerate when Crowley suggested going for coffee, the demon started to have hope. They would go to the coffee shop and eke out a little bit more time with each other, then see where it might go from there.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*****</p>
</div>Well, it went swimmingly from there. Their first attempt at not parting ways immediately worked very well. Soon Crowley discovered he enjoyed Sam’s company sitting and talking in the local pizza parlor every bit as much as screwing in the back seat of a car, and Sam seemed happy, too. And after a period of trial and error, they discovered they could steal even more time together as long as Sam didn’t use the Impala, because Dean wouldn’t call nearly as fast wondering where Sam was if he took any one of the other automobiles housed in the generous Men of Letters’ garage. (For “Sam,” substitute “the Impala” and you’ll get it.)<p>On this particular day, they had a wonderfully libidinous session in the back seat of a luxurious 1957 Cadillac Eldorado and still managed to grab a quick bite before Sam needed to get back. They chose a nearby, crowded  Biggerson’s for their “aprés consummation treat,” as the King of the Demons archly referred to it (which made Sam roll his eyes in affectionate disbelief). As they were finishing up, Crowley said in a faux casual tone, “Bullwinkle, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”</p><p>Sam tensed. That sounded very much like the beginning of a break-up speech. He swallowed his last mouthful of salad and said as calmly as possible, “Sure, what?” If Crowley wanted out, no way was Sam going to let the demon see he wasn’t cool with it.</p><p>Crowley cleared his throat and said somewhat tentatively, “Moose, how about next time we have an entire night, we go out to dinner at a nice restaurant and then have our ‘dessert’ somewhere a bit more pleasant than the back seat of a car?”</p><p>Far from breaking up, it seemed Crowley too wanted more. A vein in Sam’s neck started throbbing visibly. “You mean, like a real date?”</p><p>“Yes, I mean like a real date,” Crowley said, and cringed mentally. He could not believe that he was hearing those words coming out his own mouth; the King of Hell had never considered himself the dating type. “Call me the next time Squirrel gives us the whole night, and I’ll take you out for a lovely dinner, and then we can go somewhere afterwards and have even more lovely sex.”</p><p>“I would really like that,” Sam admitted, “but...” Crowley steeled himself to be rebuffed, “...there’s something I need to know before this goes any further. It’s about Dean.”</p><p>Okay, that didn’t sound like rejection. “Squirrel? What about him?” Crowley asked, puzzled. “Don’t tell me you feel like you need to get his permission first?”</p><p>“Hell, no. The less Dean knows about this, the better. But, Crowley,” Sam admitted somewhat hesitantly, “since the first time we met, I’ve always had the feeling that you preferred Dean to me. So we can keep on having fun in the back seats of cars, or in skeevy motel rooms, or even like that time behind the bowling alley in Lebanon...”</p><p>Despite how serious Sam sounded, Crowley was unable to stop a corner of his mouth from quirking upwards over that amazingly erotic memory. He snapped out of it fast, though, when he heard Sam take a deep, shaky breath. “What, Moose?” he asked quickly.</p><p>“…but we shouldn’t go any further than that if it’s Dean you’re actually interested in. I’ve always been happy to go along with whatever you come up with, but now that you’re talking about more, there’s something I need to make clear: I will not be a consolation prize for the Winchester you really want.”</p><p>“Moose, where is this coming from?” Crowley asked, frowning.</p><p>“It’s just a feeling I’ve had in the back of my mind for a while now,” Sam admitted, frowning a bit himself as he thought about it. “When you wanted to join forces with us in the past for any reason, you only ever called Dean. When we worked together, you always went off with Dean and left me behind to do book research or even just twiddle my thumbs.” </p><p>“Well,” Crowley said, “it’s true that I’ve always felt I had a connection...a <i>bromance </i>with Dean, if you will, since we first met.”</p><p>“See, that’s not helping me feel any better about this, Crowley.”</p><p>Crowley shrugged. “What can I say? From the very beginning Dean was willing to work with me, not against me. Let’s face it, darling, at least <i>he </i>didn’t try to shoot me point blank in the face the first time we met.” </p><p>Sam couldn’t deny that. “I’m really sorry now, but you were so different when you were King of the Crossroads, and something about you just rubbed me the wrong way back then.”</p><p>“Well, as long as I’m rubbing you the right way now, I don’t see the problem.” Crowley tossed out the innuendo-laden comment without a second thought, but the forlorn look on Sam’s face made Crowley instantly regret his flippant reply. He hastened to say, “Listen, Moose: Dean has always said what’s on his mind, and he never minces words. I’ve always appreciated that, more than I can say. So in Dean I got someone I can consider a friend. But in you, Moose, I got something so much better...I got a Sam. And I want to see more of him. So next time Squirrel goes out for the night, let’s have a leisurely dinner first and all the sex we want after, almost like normal people.” </p><p>So, Dean had managed for the most part to stand up to a king without offending him, while earning his respect at the same time. But apparently that didn’t mean Crowley had designs on him. Sam sighed in relief. Despite his brave words, going forward he really wanted more from Crowley than just sex.</p><p>Then Sam remembered what Crowley said about going somewhere after dinner, with the definite implication that it should be somewhere nicer than usual. Sam knew that if he left it up to the demon, they would probably end up in that pretentious penthouse suite again, because that was something Crowley seemed to feel was his due. “Actually, your plan sounds wonderful, except <i>no </i>fancy hotels. You can pick the restaurant, but I get to pick the hotel.”</p><p>The former King of the Crossroads bit back a smile at Sam’s fledgling attempt to negotiate with him. “It’s a deal, Moose.”</p><p>“Even if I just choose a Motel 6 where we can wreck the bed without worrying about it?” Sam asked with a small smile. After all, it was true that Motel 6 was “a bit more pleasant than the backseat of a car.” Barely.</p><p>“Wherever you like,” Crowley agreed. “Whither thou goest, blah blah blah.” He nodded and stood.</p><p>“You’re leaving already?” Sam asked, disappointed even though he knew he himself should get back to the bunker soon.</p><p>Crowley looked around the busy Biggerson’s dining room and saw that no one was paying them any attention. He leaned across the table and kissed Sam gently. “Always leave them wanting more,” he murmured as he pulled his lips away from Sam’s. He mimed “call me,” and blinked out.</p>
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